


Spices and lavender

by EveandJohnny



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, Miss Peregrine's Modern Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16430786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveandJohnny/pseuds/EveandJohnny
Summary: Phryne Fisher has been living an eventful life. And it's about to get more lively.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the news about Miss Peregrine's Modern Murder Mysteries, this is my take on how Peregrine might have stepped into Phryne's life.

Phryne Fisher had just poured herself and her guest - not yet retired Detective Chief Inspector Jack Robinson - a cup of steaming Earl Grey tea when the bell rang. Her dutiful butler of fifteen years, Erskine Cartwright, came out of the kitchen to open the entrance door.

“Why didn’t you say that you are expecting more guests?” Jack asked in a playful manner before he took a cautious sip.

“I didn’t tell you because I’m not expecting anyone. It’s a surprise guest, hopefully a nice one”, Phryne replied with a similarly cheeky grin. “Or are you awaiting someone?”

He shook his head, his thick grey hair reflecting the light of the only glowing lamp in the room, the one between the couch and the chaise lounge where the two partners were sitting.

Even in her older age - Phryne’s 64th birthday was coming up next week though only she and her family knew that, for everyone else her age had always been a mystery - she valued her freedom and independency. And Jack knew that. He had always let her go when she wanted to leave because he knew he couldn’t chain her to his side but also because she would eventually return to him.

Phryne still lived in her grand mansion in St. Kilda. Her companion and assistant Dorothy had moved out after her marriage but she wasn’t far away. She and her husband Hugh, who used to be Jack’s loyal sergeant and was now a respected Detective Inspector in his own right, lived only a few streets away in Elwood in a cosy bungalow. Their three children, two daughters and one son, were grown-up now and had made Dot a proud grandmother of five partly well behaved, partly rebellious grandchildren she loved very much.

Mr Cartwright, who had taken over the job as butler from the much respected Tobias Butler after his late yet still untimely death, now came into the sitting room. “There is a young woman outside who claims to be Miss Peregrine Fisher. Your niece, ma’am.”

Phryne could hardly ever be described as dumbfounded but now she was rather close to it. “My niece?”, she asked incredulously and blinked for a moment, then got up from the chaise lounge.

Jack followed her and briefly touched her back in support. “I didn’t know you have a niece.”

“Me neither”, she said, “because I wouldn’t know how.”

Now they all stood in the vestibule. Over at the door waited a woman who, Phryne admitted that to herself, had a certain resemblance to her. The same pale complexion, slender frame, and black hair though she wore it long and part of it pinned into a high beehive after the latest fashion. Her outfit spoke, just like Phryne’s, from a wealthy background and fine taste: it was a bright pink dress made from an expensive fabric that reached barely to the mid of her thighs, boxy in shape, and along the front there was a line of red buttons attached.

She smiled at Phryne, her eyes beneath thick black eyeliner twinkled, and extended a hand. “So nice to finally meet you, Aunt Phryne!”

Phryne blinked a couple times more, and then remembered her duties as a host. “Please, come in.” She indicated the sitting room.

Peregrine followed her eagerly and sat across from her and Jack who eyed her suspiciously with what Phryne called his ‘Detective glance’. He didn’t trust this woman because he knew that Phryne’s only sister had been abducted and murdered by Murdoch Foyle when she was ten.

“Now Peregrine, how do you come to be my niece?” Phryne asked and offered her a glass of whiskey. To digest this shock, she had needed something stronger than tea.

“Oh, you don’t know? Has Gram Henry never talked about us?” Peregrine sounded very surprised, but by no means bitter or angry.

“‘Gram Henry’ as in Baron Henry Fisher? And who is ‘us’?”, Jack inquired. His detective senses had kicked in and also his sense of protection as he didn’t want Phryne to fall victim to a fraud.

Either Peregrine was a fabulous actress or she indeed was as innocent as she pretended to be. “Why, of course! Who else would I mean? And with ‘us’ I refer to my parents: his son Michael, my father, and Ingrid, my mother. We live in Chelsea in London but I decided it was time for me to meet the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher who happens to be my aunt.”

Phryne took another swig of whiskey, too stunned to speak. She wasn’t so much surprised about her father never telling her - he had kept so many secrets before her over the years - but that there was an additional branch in her family tree. She tried to puzzle out the timing. Her mother had died when she was as old as Phryne was now. If he had started a new family afterwards, this Michael would only be eighteen, about the age Peregrine seemed to be. So it must have happened during their marriage and Peregrine apparently knew him well enough to affectionately call him “Gram”. The more she thought about it the more furious she grew. Henry Fisher had done his wife wrong so often, and now here was a new disgrace to add to this list.

“Please excuse me, I need to call someone.” With all the grace she could muster despite her rage, she walked out of the room to the telephone.

Her father, now living in a respectable retirement home in the outskirts of London at the age of 86, picked up after the third ring. “Baron Fisher?”

“Hello father”, Phryne uttered through gritted teeth.

“Oh, Phryne darling, how lovely to hear from you.” He sounded instantly intimidated. He knew what his daughter was capable of. “How can I help you?”

She inhaled deeply. “I have questions and I need answers. That’s how you can help.”

Henry Fisher coughed. “Well, what do you want to know then?”

“There’s a girl in my sitting room calling you ‘Gram Henry’. Her name is Peregrine Fisher. Explain yourself!”

“Er, this is not a question, Phryne”, he dared to point out.

Even though he wouldn’t see it Phryne raised her eyebrow. “Father!”, she said threateningly.

“Alright, alright. Her father, Michael, was an accident. I met his mother during a race in Newmarket and she was so interesting-“

Phryne huffed and rolled her eyes. She herself wasn’t averse to adventures with interesting people but she also hadn’t had a spouse who needed her waiting for her at home.

“-that, ah well, we ended up in a stable. When she found out she was expecting she demanded alimonies.”

“That might explain how well off Peregrine seems to be but neither the name nor her nearness with you.” Phryne’s voice was cold as ice.

“I would have come back to that. And if you want to accuse me of bigamy then you’re wrong. Her name was Fisher as well, a mere coincidence. Concerning the intimacy, well, that was part of her claims: she wanted me to be a good father for Michael.”

Phryne had been listening with ever growing disbelief. She tightly gripped the rail of the stairs. Especially the remark about the “good father” let her shake. He _had_ been a good father to her and her sister; but only until Janey had vanished - and when the family had come in possession of the title and the attached fortune the bonds between them had weakened even more. What angered Phryne the most were not his countless mishaps but that her mother had to suffer through all this and that Henry Fisher hardly ever showed any regrets.

“Look, Phryne, let’s not talk about this over the phone. The next time you come over for a visit we can all discuss this like adults.”

Phryne’s look could have been lethal to the Baron if he had been around. “I don’t know when I’m going to visit. But I do know that your granddaughter is in my house right now.” When she had said that she stilled. A thought appeared in her mind and, for a reason, pierced her heart. “Or did you hook up with this Mrs Fisher because you wanted to have grandchildren and you knew you couldn’t get them from me?”, she hissed.

There was a heartbeat of silence at the end of the line before her father found his voice again. “Phryne, no! Of course not. As I said, Michael was not planned. And you know that I love you - with or without children of your own.”

Her father sounded sincere. Her anger deflated slowly and she sighed deeply. “Okay, father, you might be right. We wouldn’t get anywhere now if we continued. I will have a closer look at Peregrine now and then we’ll see. Take care of yourself.”

“You too, Phryne.”

She hung up and returned to the sitting room. “I spoke to Henry. He confirmed that you are his granddaughter.”

“See, Inspector, I’m not lying. I don’t want Aunt Phryne’s money, we have enough ourselves. I was just very curious about her. I still am. You have to know, Phryne, your reputation runs ahead of you.”

Both confusion and anger had subsided, and Phryne’s own interest took the upper hand. “Have you been interrogating her? You are off-duty after all. Admittedly, I have some questions myself.”

Peregrine smiled sweetly. “I haven’t expected anything else. Ask away, I’m happy to answer anything.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and said “I’d be careful with that. Miss Fisher usually wants to know a lot.”

Phryne smiled and bumped his shoulder, then said “Tell me a bit about you, Peregrine. Where you got that peculiar name from, for instance. Or something about your family.”

“My name has been a touchy subject for me. It means falcon and Mom says that I had been fully alert the second I was born, not bothering with trivial baby things like crying or screaming. I can’t vouch for this, of course, but she’s been telling the same story to everyone who wanted to hear it so there has to be some truth to it. In my childhood I was embarrassed of it but now I flaunt it with pride.”

“And when were you born?”

“In the last days of the war, a week before the Victory Day. Dad was a pilot in the RAF, he was shot down in January ’44 and imprisoned in Königstein in Germany. Mom had been in charge of our house in Chelsea but in the end there was only the butler left who had been too old to be recruited. About the same time Dad was captivated we got two German soldiers working for us.”

“Prisoners as well, I assume?”, Jack asked with furrowed brows. He had been recruited, too, but had been lucky to end up in a strategic camp well behind the front line in France.  He doubted that he would have survived a second time in the trenches. Phryne had followed, working again as a nurse in a military hospital, also not right at the front line.

Peregrine nodded. “I’m not proud of that and Mom only told me recently. They were only as old as I am and when I imagine I would have to fight in a war now, well, I can’t, really. It’s a thing we rarely speak about. Anyway, back to something less critical.” She paused for a second to find a suitable topic. “Like school. I went to a Catholic all girls’ school.” She noticed Phryne’s sceptical face and laughed. “I know you’re not Catholic. Neither am I. Well, not very devoted at least. I go to church with my parents every Sunday but that’s it. I don’t really listen to the sermon.” She grinned cheekily. “I usually dream about accompanying you on your investigations.”

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. “Dear God! I don’t know if the world can bear with another Phryne Fisher. The criminological intuition seems to run in the family” he muttered.

Phryne patted his back. “Don’t worry, Jack. I’m sure Peregrine won’t bother you but will find a Detective of her own.” She turned to her niece again. “Where do you stay at the moment?”

“At the Grand Hyatt. But it’s not really my thing. Too pompous and old-fashioned. After my visit here I wanted to look for something contemporary.”

“And if you stayed here? Or do you want to be more autonomously?”, Phryne offered.

Jack leaned to her ear and whispered “Your heart is still too big. You cannot always take in every stray cat that scratches at your door.”

“She’s not a stray cat” she replied out of the corner of her mouth.

Peregrine followed the exchange curiously. “Don’t worry, Inspector. I’m honestly not after Aunt Phryne’s silver cutlery. But if it really isn’t too big of a bother for you I would love to stay.”

“Of course it isn’t too big of a bother.” She clapped her hands, back to her usual cheerful self. “Then it is decided. I will call you a cab so you can get your luggage. And tonight were going to have a feast in your honour and you will get to know my friends. Oh, it’ll be fun!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every Cloud Productions has by now released a trailer in which is disclosed how Peregrine appears on the scene. Three reasons why I decided to continue anyway. 1. I don't like the thought of Phryne being missing even though I'm sure she can survive even this situation, 2. I already had an idea for a second chapter when writing the first and it's just so much fun imagining how the family around Phryne has grown over the years and 3. in Chapter 3 there is going to be a case for Phryne and the detectives which is going to be my first crime story ever!

Later that night Phryne’s estate buzzed with activity. The salon was fully lit, the light of the chandelier reflected in the brightly polished silver cutlery. Mr Cartwright arranged the fine St Kilda China for all the guests who were invited. Phryne had quickly sent word to Mac and Tilda O’Hare, a 51-year-old chief nurse at the gynaecology ward and officially her caretaker but actually partner of ten years now, and of course to Dorothy and her big family.

Her former companion and assistant detective, who had retired from solving crimes when her second child had been due and now worked as executive housekeeper in an all-girls’ school, stood in the kitchen with her two daughters Marilyn Widbrock and Noreen Turner to prepare dinner. Phryne fluttered into the room to survey their work.

 “Dot, you are magnificent!” She bent down over the Chiko rolls and meat pies and snuffled. “It looks and smells fantastic! Though I told you time and time again that you are my guest.”

Dorothy smiled and shyly pushed a grey lock behind her ear. She knew Phryne for 36 years and yet the older woman never failed to make her blush with her direct and hospitable nature. “You don’t have to worry, Miss Phryne, it’s my pleasure and I’m more than used to cooking for a lot of people.” Then she gasped and raised her hand to her mouth. “Oh God, I forgot to tell you! I saw Alice in the supermarket after I had received your message and invited her and Cec, too. And when Cec comes, Burt will surely, too. I’m so sorry!”

Phryne was by no means shocked. She just smiled broader and patted Dorothy on the back. “These are wonderful news! I haven’t heard from both of them in a while so it’ll surely be wonderful to catch up. But I’m afraid that the dining room will burst trying to host that many people.” Though this hardly seemed like a problem to Phryne. A kind of mischievous anticipation sparkled in her eyes when she said “I already have an idea. You just make a few more pies if you can manage and I’ll resolve the space problem.” While leaving she called after her butler “Mr Cartwright, we have to redispose a bit!”

 Suddenly, there was a faint clatter from tumbling down paint tins outside. Then another closer by, this time it sounded like gardening tools clanking together, and then the back door broke open in a loud bang, causing a giggling bundle of children to fall about each other.

Marilyn poised her hands on her hips and said in a raised voice “Ada! Irene! This is not how I raised you.” The 33-year-old blonde woman put town the carrot she had been chopping and walked over to untangle her two girls from their cousin.

Her sister Noreen, two years younger and blessed with tight dark-brown ringlets, helped her daughter Rosalind up from the floor. She eyed her and spotted a rip in her baby blue Madras dress. “Oh Rosy, this was your best dress!”

“But Mommy, it’s nothing! See?” The eleven-year-old ruffled her skirt a bit and the rip disappeared in one of the folds.

Dorothy bent down beside them and had a look. “Don’t worry, I can fix this tomorrow when you come over after breakfast.”

“Thank you, Mum.” She smiled up to Dorothy, then turned to Rosalind. “And where is your brother?”

The girl shrugged. “I don’t know but he’s probably out with Theo doing _boys’ things_ we’re not allowed to join” she said with a pout.

Marilyn laughed. “And what would those _boys’ things_ be?”

“Playing football” Adaline answered and snitched an apple slice from the table. “Theo says that we would just get our shoes dirty and that dresses aren’t the right clothing anyway.” She looked up to her mother. “But football is so much fun! We’re always allowed to play  with Grandpa Hugh and then Theo doesn’t say anything bad because he wants to be Grandpa’s favourite.” She huffed.

“But you are the oldest, aren’t you dear? You know how to have your way.” Marilyn kissed Adaline on her thick black curls she had inherited from her father Charles whereas Irene took after Marilyn and had straight blonde hair usually tied into pigtails.

“Anyway Mum, when are we gonna meet Peregrine?” the younger Widbrock girl asked. “I wonder if she’s ever met the Beatles.”

Phryne, who just came into the kitchen, laughed when she heard that. “Oh girls, so this is all the fuzz about! She seems well acquainted but I don’t know if she socializes in those circles. But there is no other way to find out than to ask her. We are ready to go if you are.” She extended her hand to Irene who took it happily and clung to Phryne’s arm. To her, Phryne was a hero, someone she aspired to be in the future.

“We have one more pie in the oven but that isn’t ready for another half hour so we should start with dinner anyway” Dorothy said and hung her apron on the hook at the back of the kitchen door.

“Wonderful!” Phryne clapped.

“Miss Fisher, the Yates family and Mr Johnson have arrived” Mr Cartwright announced from the doorway.

Phryne beamed wider. “Even better! Dot, hand Mr Cartwright one of the pies and then just follow me.” She turned to Jack who had just appeared behind the butler. “Oh Jack, don’t you just love a big feast?” She linked arms with him and made her way through the hallway and down the stairs leading outside.

The kitchen brigade discovered that most big tables in Phryne’s possession had been moved out of the house and onto the central reservation parting the two lanes of The Esplanade. Peregrine Fisher already stood behind one of the chairs chatting to Cec’s wife Alice.

Alice, despite being in her fifties and a mother of three, still had a slim figure and due to her financial success in writing several cookbooks she was able to treat herself to a bit of designer couture every once in a while. Now Peregrine was admiring her straight Givenchy silk dress in egg yolk yellow printed with white and fuchsia lotus flowers. 

“The fabric is beautiful! So soft. My favourite designer is André Courrèges. I find the mini skirt very freeing.“

Alice laughed and smoothed out her skirt. “For young girls like you it sure is. For women my age it’s not appropriate. But before you argue: I don’t feel oppressed, on the contrary, I feel like I’m living my best life now.” She searched for her husband’s gaze.

Cec stood on the other side of the table talking to his old comrade Bert who, as usual, didn’t look too cheerful. But his friend knew that he was actually enjoying himself. When he noticed Alice’s outstretched hand he started to grin and took it, pulled it towards him and kissed the back.

They all turned their attention to the head of the table when someone clinked a glass with a spoon. “My dears! I’m so happy to have you all here together to welcome a very special guest. She came all the long way from London to meet us and to learn the detective craft from, please allow me to be this immodest, the best.” Joyous laughter sounded around the table and Phryne smiled that her joke had the desired effect. Then she continued “So, please, give a warm welcome to my niece, Miss Peregrine Fisher!”

The party clapped loudly. Peregrine blushed and curtseyed, than raised her own glass. “And I want to give a toast to the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher who was so kind to let me into her house despite not even knowing me. That’s how I hoped this family reunion to go!”

“To Phryne!” the table echoed. The lady detective smiled and proudly observed the people who had become her extended family - a better one than she could have ever hoped for.

 As Dorothy’s and Alice’s granddaughters started to whisper and suddenly burst into giggles she still felt a sting of pain and guilt in her heart. Those little girls reminded her so much of Janey that watching them being so happy was sometimes too much to handle. She bit her lip and hid her sorrow behind a cough into her handkerchief.

“She’s here, Phryne. I know it” Jack suddenly whispered into her ear, pressing a hand reassuringly to her back.

Phryne turned her face towards him and smiled sadly. “I know, Jack.” She coughed, straightening her back. “Please, sit down. You’ve been standing for far too long. Help yourself to the superb cooking and baking of my long-term friend Dot and her amazing daughters!”


End file.
